


He Never Touched Me

by crown_of_weeds



Series: Human Of The Year [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crown_of_weeds/pseuds/crown_of_weeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Kurt Hummel had been consulted, he would have chosen a much more pleasant method of growing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Never Touched Me

**Title:** He Never Touched Me  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warnings:** Bullying, (oblique) sexual assault  
 **What Is It?** If Kurt Hummel had been consulted, he would have chosen a much more pleasant method of growing up. 

Kurt wondered, sometimes, how normal kids grew up.

Sometimes, watching Mr. Shuester rap, he suspected they never did. Breaking the note on  Defying Gravity , choking on irony, he wondered if he was supposed to be surprised that the fifteen year old was taking bullets for his father. He started to count the times Rachel referred to Mytwogaydads; at number 20 he concluded that Rachel Berry was the result, primarily, of two  insecure children with no idea how to raise another human being. He came across Coach Sylvester googling “lesbian hair styles” and with a new comprehension of her relationship to Mr. Shuester’s hair came a proportional dip in respect. 

Overgrown children still dressed by their mothers soon came to vie with  plebeian fools  and  blithering idiots in his mental tally of  people I am, against my will, surrounded by .

This whole business of growing up seemed entirely too ungoverned and a little backwards. Those in charge of overseeing his growth and maturity had never grown out of their childhood cull-or-be-culled rituals, and his blossoming peers didn’t appear to understand that, (thankfully) very soon, high school might actually  end . Kurt was entirely confident he could design a much more effective (much more  humane ) system.

It couldn’t be all that challenging.

*****

  
Kurt had firmly believed, since he was eight, that the idea of growing up when a parent died was a little maudlin and a lot cliched. He knew this meant he should have loved it, but for some reason he couldn't, and so he didn’t wake up grown-up the day after the funeral. He waited for it very patiently, but it didn’t ever seem to happen.

*****

  
When Finn Hudson was nine, Ms. Ramirez asked him if he knew what “equivalent” meant, and Finn learned about fractions.

When Kurt Hummel was nine Bobby Jennings asked him if he knew he was going to hell, and Kurt learned what a homosexual was.

*****

  
When Kurt was fourteen he wore the most boring clothes he could buy under the florescent lights at WalMart and was so impatient his teeth itched with it. He hid his  Vogues under his mattress and ordered them online with his secondary elizabeth.h@gmail.com email after Eric at  Barnes & Noble had asked him which fag hags the fag mags were for; his sketches and collages and wish-lists of outfits were concealed under documents->school->seventh grade->math->lemonade stand simulation spreadsheets. 

It didn’t work.

*****

  
Kurt spent the summer between freshmen and sophomore year mainlining Disney movies, looking up pirated recordings of Broadway shows, working out standards by ear on the piano, and singing about following his heart. By August he had started to believe it, and the first time he ran his fingers over cashmere he knew there was no going back.

Kurt strutted into McKinley the first day of sophomore year decked head-to-toe in McQueen, and the similarities between Galinda bestowing a tattered hat upon Elphaba and the hour he spent carefully scrubbing urine out of his clothes that afternoon did not escape his notice.

*****

  
Kurt wondered, idly, if thinking of the dumpster as his favorite place in school made him sick.

He knew other people had their own opinions as to what, exactly, made him sick, but fuck them.

His  thing for dumpsters, on the other hand, was entirely rational. No one ever followed him in, and they left his coat and bag unmolested on the ground outside. Sometimes, if the ground was wet, they’d even leave them sitting carefully on the lid, which was really very considerate of them. They always did close the lid, so the more mobile garbage couldn’t get out. This, too, was a kindness: he never had to worry about escaping too soon and running into them before they wanted to see him again  and he had developed quite the rapport with the janitors.

(No, they’d told him sadly, they’d already tried sabotaging the slushie machines. Figgins had fired the head janitor as an example; apparently this turned almost of enough of a profit to cover two American flags for every classroom.)

Kurt was pretty sure that being grateful to his bullies was a sign of something, so he tried to think about it even less than his dumpster fetish.

*****

  
Kurt choreographed increasingly intricate handshakes with Mercedes, and ran his fingers through his bangs until the sides of his hand was smooth, and watched Mike and Matt bump shoulders and Puck and Finn bump fists. 

It doesn’t matter he reminded himself.

Sometimes the voice in his head had to start screaming before he looked away.

*****

  
Kurt considered himself something of an idiot-savant when it came to provoking homophobia. It was such a talent it cropped up when he wasn’t even trying; he could have so, so easily stopped, thought for half a second, and changed the line about  no one there you can kiss goodnight . 

He didn’t even want to kiss Finn, he knew better than that.

*****

  
No, of course not, Finn. 

I’m sorry I shook his hand. 

*****

  
His Dad told him to wait, and Kurt assured himself that holding his Dad’s hand would be more than enough for now. And for a few weeks it was, and then someone grabbed his hand, someone pulled him running down a hall without letting go, and someone reached out and fixed his collar before patting him on the shoulder.

Waiting was a very, very grown-up thing to do, and Kurt wasn’t very good at it at all.

*****

  
Kurt spent so much time wishing they would just get it over with and punch him that he never paused to consider how much being touched could hurt.

Nothing was worse than lockers scraping down his back, ice dripping down his shirt, and  fags  and  ladies curling down in his stomach, he had been sure, but this. These hands finally, fucking finally, on his face. 

They definitely won.

*****

  
The second this kid touches you, you come to me .

Kurt didn’t understand why touching Finn’s face with a moist towelette was unforgivable, but Karofsky trailing a finger down his chest was expected behavior. He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch, but he hadn’t thought he was allowed to  be touched either. 

Of course, the death threats seemed to indicate that this wasn’t actually encouraged.

He just terrified me , but how was that any different from any other day, and why had he started crying this time of all times? 

(And Jesus fucking Christ, if he’d known crying was what it took for a teacher to notice he’d maybe have tried it sooner.)

*****

  
Kurt left.

Adults didn’t leave.

But then, they didn’t try to make him stay, either.

*****

  
There was a hand on his face again. Only one, this time, and other things, too. 

It was wrong, broke all the rules. Kurt waited patiently for Blaine to realize this.

Except the rules had never really kept him all that safe, and Blaine didn’t seem to understand that any rule could ever apply to him, and Kurt was so, so tired.

Oh .

Kurt tried to move his lips, and Blaine made a noise and pressed in further.

Oh .

Kurt took a breath and brought his hand up. He slammed it down when he realized they were stopping, and then Blaine was looking at him again and, fuck all of that. Fuck everything. 

Kurt reached out and  grabbed .


End file.
